Sweet Nothing
by TiannaMVA
Summary: Harry commits suicide via Veil, but it doesn't turn out like he thought it would. He ends up in a new world with no memories to speak of. What will he do with his sense of self erased? Will he ever get himself back? Does he want to? DRABBLE LENGTH CHAPS.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: I'm sorry it's been so long since I've uploaded anything, but I have been busy getting my grades up and attempting to get any/every idea I have onto paper (which is working little better). As I'm now a senior and my workload has lifted a bit, I decided to give my readers (or what little remain of them, after so much time) a present for Christmas of 2011. Hears to hoping the world won't end within the next week, yeah? I still got so much to do!

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><p>▫ộ»<strong>I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good <strong>«ộ▫

Harry smiles lightly as he looks at the veil that took the only link to a family he could possibly have. He might be only seventeen, but he had worked his ass off after Sirius died, and had discovered everything he thought was real was a lie. Now, having worked on deciphering as much as he possibly could about it, (turns out some of the inscriptions on the veil had been in parseltongue, but that didn't mean that's all there was), he'd compiled a list of all the things he knew.

**One**: There was no possible way to get Sirius back out of it. Sirius would be long dead, or just a husk that would die soon anyway, or atomized by the great forces of magic that swirled within the veils archway. His last moments would likely have either been painless with how fast he died, or so drawn out, nothing could've possibly kept him sane, since he didn't, wouldn't, have a barrier against it like he did in Azkaban.

**Two**: The veil served no purpose any longer. The only reason the Department of Mysteries had even kept it this long was because they still wanted to know what it said. Now that Harry had figured out and described what it said in it's various ancient dialects, they were going to destroy it in the morning, erasing any possibility of… Harry wasn't even sure what it would erase, but he had a feeling it would leave him emptier than he already was.

**Three**: There was nothing keeping Harry here. The war was over, the survivors many, the casualties too much to bear for him…

Tonks and Remus had died in a blaze of glory, wanting to keep their only son safe in a new world. They didn't know that the cottage that Andromeda and her husband Ted were watching little Teddy in was being torn apart by some of Fenrir Greyback's completely loyal and insane followers for 'starting his own pack, where the alpha had not given permission'. Never mind that Remus was never welcomed, not had ever wanted to join the reclusive wolves.

Ron and Hermione had ulterior motives to his friendship, despite 'evidence' that they didn't. He had saved Hermione's life, and Ron was his 'best friend' for so many years… Ron wanted to be famous. If he had to be sidekick, at least he had one-upped all his siblings. But eventually, that wasn't enough for him. He eventually decided to get him to marry into the family, to his sister, Ginny. Ginny was oblivious to Ron's motivations. He had planned on using her as well to get a hold on Harry's inheritances, the life of luxury he had always wanted. Hermione had wanted some of his power, his connections, his fame. She knew, in that brilliant brain of hers, that she would get nowhere as a muggleborn. She also knew that any purebloods that were 'respectable' would avoid her on basis of her blood. She hatched a plan to latch onto Harry, who would likely not know a thing, if her books on his whereabouts were in anyway true. His messiah-like worship would definitely endear her to some of the more 'light' communities, ensuring her a life or possibly near-leisure. Even at eleven, she had been the smartest person he had never wanted to meet.

Harry didn't hold it against any of them. At this point in his life, he had come to realize that he was pretty dispensable. Dumbledore had thought the same thing about him, evidenced by pretty much scripting him to die, a 'lamb to slaughter', as Snape, bless his bitter soul, had colorfully put it in the memories he had _lovingly_ provided.

That brought his train of thoughts to the last bullet in his mental list.

**Four**: What was keeping him from simply getting it over with?

This left Harry in front of the veil, its whispers of happiness taunting him, telling him that it could lead somewhere better, somewhere where he could be the naïve little child he had never fully been able to be, nor leave behind, in childhood. All his naiveté had cost him was his family, his friends, his very _life_. With all that had happened, Harry wasn't sure that it was possible, finding happiness. Who's to say his horrid luck wouldn't find him again, just to ruin it all in one broad stroke?

He figured he would like to go as Sirius had. Either almost softly, falling into something that wasn't there, or so painfully, death would be welcome even more than it already was.

Of course, he wasn't going to leave anything behind for the bastards that had decided to aid in his misery. Despite not holding it against Ron, Hermione, or Dumbledore, Harry wasn't about to leave anything with value to the former two. The last didn't count all that much. He was nothing now, besides a 'book' Rita Skeeter had written about all the horrid things that had happened in his own life, and a footnote in history books.

Soon, the same would apply to Harry. Despite ending two wars, Harry would soon fade to obscurity, a faceless person who would be so twisted after his death that he might as well be an indoor tree, forever seeking sunlight. After leaving a memoir with Luna, the only person who might possibly be interested in his life, and his familial belongings like his cash and cloak to Neville, who could use something useful for his own children, Harry stood less than a foot from absolute death.

His last thought, before emptying his mind of everything, was of Sirius, and how unfairly his life was cut short. He'll meet him soon. It'd be the most fantastic birthday present he had ever given himself.

Taking his last breath and closing tired green eyes, Harry stepped forward. Everything instantly became blacker, and conscious thought stopped.

**| |ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø| |**

His eyes opened to see a pair of worried blue-green eyes that seemed to almost sparkle at him. "Are you okay?" an almost feminine voice asked. It took a moment before he realized the person the eyes belonged to was talking to _him_.

He just blinked back at the person, confused. Who was this, and what was wrong with their voice? They sounded all funny. He had a feeling that he had never heard anyone who had sounded like this. "Who are you?" He wasn't entirely surprised to hear his voice sounded so _different_ from this mystery person's. "And where am I? Why do you sound all funny? Why do _I_ sound all funny?"

The eyes seemed _bemused_ almost when suddenly his sight seemed to register this person had a face. It was thin, aristocratic almost, and had some beautiful features on it. A button nose, wide eyes, rosy cheeks, a quirk to the lips. Chestnut hair was spilling over their forehead, a shade of brown he was _sure_ he had never seen before.

"Do you know your name?" the person asked, ignoring his questions. Or maybe he just didn't know how to answer. For some reason, that made him happy. An unpleasant feeling that he knew someone horrible who had known all the answers before washed through him. Bad things happen when somebody knew all the answers to life's little questions.

In an attempt to answer _this_ question, however, his mind drew a blank. Eyes unconsciously narrowing, he blurted the first thing that passed through his thoughts. "Black!"

"Do you have a first name? How old you are, maybe?"

"It's… I think it's Harry," he said hesitatingly. "But… I don't like it. I might be… I… seven… seven something."

"Seventeen?"

Harry Black flinched. "I, yes, but it sounds almost… mean."

There was silence for a heartbeat, before this stranger asked, "You really don't know where you are?"

He just shook his head.

**| |ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø| |**

Kurt didn't know what to think. He had found what seemed to be a half-dead-looking British teen in the middle of Ohio, the middle of the road really, apparently with no memories of any sort. Coherent sort, anyway. They were probably all jumbled. He might just have a concussion. "Do you feel sick or injured in any way?"

A pair of piercingly dark, green eyes latched onto his, wondering something, puzzling it out for a moment before he said, "No, just… sad, I think."

"Why sad? Do you know?" Kurt pressed.

"I don't… I don't remember."

That just confirmed what he already suspected: the guy had no memories.

"So I suppose you don't think anywhere around you is familiar looking?"

"Really, where am I?" Harry finally asked, looking confused after glancing around himself. "Isn't it supposed to be raining?"

"It _is_ Ohio," Kurt said dryly. At Harry's still befuddled face, he clarified, "You're in the United States."

"What the bloody hell am I doing in the states?"

"That's what I would like to know. I do think we should head to the police office, however, just in case people are looking for you. With your current memories, you're not liable to recall many details if most of it is lost."

▫ộ»** Mischief Managed **«ộ▫

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><p><strong><strong>AN**: **So what do you think? I got about five chapters of this written up in sequence. I'm already working on the rest of it (hopefully). Hope to try and get one a week (something's bound to hit me any time now a days).


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Yeah, I actually thought this whole thing through (for the most part). I know what I want in it, and I'm hoping someone gets some enjoyment outta this, too. Enjoy, readers!

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><p>▫ộ»<strong>I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good <strong>«ộ▫

The police force were actually very polite, though one had seemed to be overly paranoid and suspicious about Harry, like he was a secret terrorist who had somehow thought of trying to get into little Lima, Ohio with the sole intent on destroying police headquarters. When Kurt took it upon himself to tell Harry this, Harry had gotten a funny look on his face, eyes glazing over as he stared into the distance. Kurt had to snap his fingers four times in front of his face for him to refocus again. He just said, "He reminds me of someone, I think," and Kurt let it go. Memories come naturally. Forcing them will do nothing for Harry.

They had taken Harry's name, possible age, fingerprints for processing and searching in their database, and had promised to get in contact with someone at the hospital to set up a visit for blood tests and other necessary things, like making sure he had had his vaccinations. Until then, Kurt had graciously offered his home. ("I'm not intruding or anything, right? I wouldn't want to put you out." "Don't worry. I'll just need to explain the situation to my dad. I'm sure he'll understand and let you stay in our guest room. I really doubt we'll be having company anytime soon.")

Kurt then dragged Harry with him to the nearest clothing store. He was too broad for Kurt's clothes, even with seams let out, and too short and slim for any of Finn's to justify taking them and pretty much cutting them in half to fit (Harry would get the most clothes out of that, but Finn's clothes were ugly and unfashionable anyway). There was only so much Kurt's magic fingers could go when involving clothes.

"You _really_ don't have to get me clothes. I can get a job," Harry pointed out, making an off-put face at the amount of clothes Kurt was forcing him into. It was at least a foot thick.

"As what? At this point, you have no prospects without a complete application, and no one will hire an unknown when they can hire a kid they already know something about," Kurt rejected his suggestion. "At least this way, I have something to do other than clean up my music library and yell at my brother to stop yelling at the TV."

"I suppose. You've already asked your dad about me?"

"Yep. He said as long as you don't decide to murder us in a sleep, (oh relax, he was _joking_), he's fine with you staying. You'll have to put up with getting up with the rest of us in the morning, though, since two of us have got to go to school still (come to think of it, I should probably enroll you if nothing comes back) and another has work."

"Something tells me early mornings won't really matter."

"For some reason, I had that same feeling." Harry blinked, unfazed at Kurt's rather evil look, thinking he's seen worse.

**| |ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø| |**

It wasn't until that evening during dinner, when Finn came home from Puck's and Burt closed up shop for the day, did everyone get to meet Harry. He had helped Carole make dinner (looks like he still had some muscle memory, and it apparently had a lot to do with cooking), so was feeling a little shy about how the food would taste and their reactions. Kurt was the first to try it, before Finn had even a chance to try and use his fork, which was a first. Kurt's eyes fluttered in pleasure. He had to say, this was the best food he had had in a while. Even his rabbit food habits had gotten to him a few times, and he had watched Harry cook this with Carole. He was proud to say it was healthy, so he didn't need to feel bad about his dad eating it.

"This," he declared, eyes still closed, "is some of the best food I can remember ever having. Congrats, Harry." He missed the dazzling smile Harry got on his face, and the look Finn got — it was close to worship. Carole looked concerned at Finn. She hoped it wasn't a repeat of the Grilled Cheese Incident. Burt just happily dug in.

Harry waited until everyone started eating before digging in himself. He had a feeling he hadn't had this mood before. This… he didn't know how to word it, even to himself. The closest he could possibly come to it would be contentment, but there were a bundle of other emotions boiling within it too.

He felt like this was first time he had smiled in years, and meant it.

▫ộ»** Mischief Managed **«ộ▫

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><p><strong><span>AN**: Yeah, it's a short chapter, big whoop, wanna fight about it? No really, I don't wanna fight. I'm quoting that midget from Family Guy (which my brother just got the season DVD for, actually). Any constructive criticism that someone can give me would be appreciated. I'd like to know I'm grammatically correct and stuff, and that I can somehow stay in character.**  
><strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I obviously don't own Harry Potter or Glee. I don't live in Britain (as I assume JKR does), or with two other people and fight over what goes next (unless you count my muse, but I don't). (Yes, I didn't remember this until the third chapter).

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><p>▫ộ»<strong>I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good <strong>«ộ▫

The results of the blood tests at the hospital and the fingerprinting of the police HQ turned up no immediate US relatives, no criminal record, nor any immigration records. They had offered citizenship paperwork that he could fill out after he passed a test three days after mysteriously appearing among the populace of Lima, Ohio. He studied with Kurt (which was an experience) for two days straight to prepare for the citizenship test, using the last day to relax, getting his mind in gear for getting past that test. He didn't want to be deported to Britain, where he wouldn't know anyone, or anything. At least Lima had nice, now-familiar people in it. He didn't want to go to Britain. Something told him it was a bad idea.

He passed the test with flying colours. He ranked in the percentile that meant he knew more Americanisms than the Americans themselves. When he began to fill out the paperwork, on the other hand, he began to think this is a new start, a new country altogether. It was nearly like he didn't exist. He still didn't like his name. He asked Kurt for some ideas about what his name should be. After an impressive show of Google-fu (Harry still didn't know how to use a computer; it was as if he was raised under a rock, despite being an awesome cook), Kurt managed to pull up a name he agreed on.

Harry signed his new name with a flourish: _Emmett Lily Black_.

(… Don't ask about the middle name. He didn't know either. It just felt right.)

▫ộ»** Mischief Managed **«ộ▫


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Do I need to put a diclaimer every chapter, or can I just ignore it for now, since I _have_ put one?

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><p>▫ộ»<strong>I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good <strong>«ộ▫

Within a few weeks (most of it playing catch-up), Emmett was ready to head to Kurt's high school come September. Kurt had said that there were bullies. Emmett didn't think he'd be bothered by much anyone. As a new kid, he would be intimidating. Or he should be intimidating. He thinks so, anyway. Kurt had also mentioned it had gotten bad enough he might transfer out. He asked Emmett not to tell anyone; he was only telling him because he could use the advice. Emmett vowed to keep an eye out for his new best friend, regardless of any problems he was given. He had a people saving thing, dammit, he'll put it to good use.

Kurt had done a good job of getting him socialized before school had even started yet (it seemed he showed up around the middle of summer break). He had met all of Kurt's Glee club, New Directions. With how Emmett pronounced it, he chuckled every time he so much as thought it.

He had clicked with Finn first, liking the puppy-like aura the tall teen had. He had déjà vu around him frequently; he figured it was someone dear to him who had acted much the same, though he also had the notion of wild animals when he 'remembered' it.

He shuddered.

He also liked Brittany. She seemed dazed, and Emmett just _knew_ he knew someone like her before he appeared here. They were precious to him too. He thought of beautiful art and the moon when he tried to summon her up.

Santana and him verbally sparred every now and then, and sometimes one used references that the other didn't get, some Harry could barely remember remembering, let alone picking up from somewhere. (though it was British slang, presumably).

Emmett got on with the rest, though not as much as those four. Mercedes seem to tolerate him, if only so she can have a doll she could dress up along with Kurt, who seemed ecstatic about it all. Emmett would just follow, amused by the whole ordeal, even if he was stuck carrying all the bags.

All that shopping had — unfortunately, in Emmett's mind — given him a wardrobe he didn't know what to do with. The patterns and different styles confused him endlessly beyond light yellow tanks don't look good in orange pants and similar combinations. This in turn led to Kurt laying out outfits for him the week before.

On the day he was supposed to start school again, he had mixed up which side started the week off, so when he came down the stairs for breakfast in Friday's outfit five minutes before they were set to leave, Kurt had turned bright red in restraining his hissy fit. Or so Emmett supposed. Why else would Kurt turn red at his perfectly normal clothes?

Burt's eyebrow had raised an eyebrow at his son's reaction and given an almost knowing look to Emmett, who was just confused.

Actually arriving at the school early, dragged behind Kurt who was taking him to office for his schedule, and being stared at by a few inquisitive students was another oddity of the day. Emmett figured it was normal for someone never before seen being lugged into school by someone who was always bullied. He decided to ignore the thought he'd done this before and just went along with Kurt, who seemed to be babbling.

▫ộ»** Mischief Managed **«ộ▫


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **I should be figuring out this weird camera my dad got me, but at the moment I'm making other people's day (week?) brighter.

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><p>▫ộ»<strong>I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good <strong>«ộ▫

Kurt was unnerved about all the stares. Sure, he'd get a couple when he showed up to school in one of his more… provocative… outfits, but he'd never gotten _this_ many. He tried to hide it by talking, explaining about various social structures around the school, who hung out around them, and places to avoid.

He wasn't during a very good job of it, since Emmett just looked at him with that damnable amused look on his face and was probably ignoring everything he said. He continued anyway.

"… and that big oak tree over there is known as the Cheerio's hang-out spot. Nearly every Cheerio will be around that tree, but be careful because they're all pretty vicious, especially their leader Coach Sylvester. I have absolutely no clue on how she'll react to you, so be on your guard. Over there is the arts area. All the classes like art and photography will be that way…"

They made it to the office with no troubles. Quickly getting all the paperwork Emmett would need, Kurt quickly went over his schedule and compared it to his. "Hey, we have French and homeroom together. I'll have to ask the others if they have any of the same classes as you, so you don't get lost."

"I don't think I've ever really been lost, Kurt," Emmett said, a smirk curling around his lips and bringing out that dimple on his right cheek.

"Oh? Then what was our meeting about?"

"Me being displaced and disoriented. I wasn't lost."

"Keep telling yourself that, Em, because, for some reason, I don't believe you."

"Yeah, yeah. Now can you tell me where Mr. Adene's class is? He seems to be in room… 207? There's over 200 classes here?"

"Sometimes, I wonder if just your memory is missing, Emmett."

"What, it's an honest question! Freakin' Americans and your counting systems."

"You can't even remember your British counting system, so I feel you can't complain all that much."

"But I haven't complained; I just made an observation."

Some unknown person took this time to interrupt their witty banter. "So I hear there's a foreigner loser here, now," Pyry Delacruz remarked semi-casually, glaring at Kurt before looking at Emmett. "You goin' ta introduce us or not, Hummel?"

"It is considered polite to introduce yourself before asking for the other's name, young man," Emmett smoothly interrupted before Kurt could do more than open his mouth for a scathing dismissal. Kurt blinked in astonishment and seemed to gape open-mouthed at him for a moment for standing up to the tall, intimidating, senior, 19-year-old hockey player. "If you cannot be bothered with pleasantries, I can see we have little to nothing in common, but thank you for your time. See you around, old chap. Kurt, if you please."

Kurt was a little dazed. He'd never heard Emmett sound so… well, _British_ was the only way he could think to put it, though _polite_ might've worked for anyone but Emmett, who used slang whenever he was comfortable. He hadn't even used contractions! Taking a quick look at Delacruz showed he probably felt the same. Speedily, he clasped onto Emmett's arm before pulling him in the direction of the math building, where their homeroom was located.

"You never told me you could be posh, Emmett," Kurt muttered to him.

"Didn't know I could, thank you. I'm pretty damn sure I met someone like that, but _worse_, if that sounds possible," explained Emmett, who probably looked a little lost (not that Kurt was looking; he was too busy leading and avoiding clusters of students to look back).

"I can totally see you doing that someone else pretty evil, actually."

**| |ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø| |**

First period (homeroom, which was really only 10 minutes) went smoothly. He was asked to introduce himself, and was told to say something interesting about his person. He said he was from somewhere in Britain (near London, possibly), and his favourite colour was purple. Kurt mock-huffed at him.

Second period (English) started off with the teacher hating him nearly on sight. He thought it had something to do with his clothes; they were a much cleaner, obviously more expensive brand than the teacher was wearing. The glaring at his clothes was also a big giveaway. He had Brittany in this class, so at least he had some entertainment.

Third period, he had PE, which was basically just measuring the students and having them sit quietly… for a few moments, anyway. Since Emmett didn't know anyone in this class (the only one discovered to be like this), he waited for someone to approach him. He had gathered that the hierarchy was very tenuous, and willing to topple for any one person. No one came near him.

Fourth period was French III with Kurt. After hearing the teacher ask him (incomprehensibly) if he could speak French, Emmett had stared for a moment, eyes glassy for a moment. It took Kurt snapping in front of his face a couple times again to bring him out of it. When the teacher asked again, he had replied (in perfect French with a perfect accent) that he did. Kurt's face was funny, but Emmett knew he would have to explain what happened later during lunch.

Lunch was an interesting affair. There was obvious cliques, and Emmett was finally able to identify Kurt's main bully, some guy named Karofsky. He stared a little too much for a straight guy. Emmett seemed to catch his gaze for a split second before he turned away, engaging in conversation with his football teammates.

Fifth was Spanish II, for some reason, and he shared it with Finn, who was completely clueless as to how he got into the class itself. When he was asked this time, Emmett knew that he knew Spanish — the same thing that happened in French happened the first time he'd heard Santana speak Spanish.

Sixth period was Practical Math, which Emmett viewed as it was: useful. It was so far turning out to be a lot of fun, lots of hands-on work that really stimulated him. He had a feeling purely theoretical work was really frustrating. He felt annoyance just contemplating it.

All in all, it was a good way to start off the school year.

Tomorrow will just be harder, and he could feel it vibrate in his very bones, that knowledge.

▫ộ»** Mischief Managed **«ộ▫

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><p><strong>AN**: I hope you appreciate how long it took to work out a schedule for this fictional school. I hardly pay attention to what's going on most of the time, but still, I didn't want to put a carbon copy of my own schedule here... So I made one from scratch. Yes there was a jerkface OC, but hopefully, I don't resort to him too much in future chapters.

I also tried a new writing style, if it isn't very obvious (feedback, please, if it isn't!). I tried being more subtle and dropping a few hints. Can you see if you can find the few I dropped here and there in this and previous chappies? I got Virtual Christmas cookies for you!

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><p><strong>8:00-8:10<strong>: Homeroom / **8:15-9:20**: 2nd period / **9:25-10:30**: 3rd period / **10:35-10:45**: Break

**10:50-11:55**: 4th period / **12:00-12:45**: Lunch / **12:50-1:55**: 5th period / **2:00-3:00**: 6th period


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **I have decided to try sticking to a Sunday schedule for this fic, and see if I can do anything with it. I hope you all look forward to me probably completing a multi-chapter fic some day (hopefully).

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><p>▫ộ»<strong>I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good <strong>«ộ▫

He was right. The next day, when coming through the front doors, a frozen _something_ (probably the icee things that Kurt had mentioned, slushies or something, he thought) nearly smacked him full in the face. He sidestepped and it splattered all over the wall. Looking back at it, he scoffed and said, "You need to work on your horrid aim, loser. No wonder your sports teams suck."

While the bully sputtered a denial and raised his fist to Emmett's back, he just walked away. Honestly, this was the best they could do? Go out of their way, buy something _every _day, and use it to humiliate someone for only, at the _most_ (with how often they did it), ten minutes? Seriously? These guys were pathetic. That's what bleach was for.

He was thankful Kurt couldn't read minds, or he likely would've been murdered on the spot for such blasphemous thoughts ("_Bleach, honestly, Emmett_?" sounded so clearly in his head, he almost heard it).

He made it to class on time, Kurt having lingered to talk with Mercedes until the bell rang, signaling the start of classes. Kurt sauntered in with a different outfit than he had left home with, hair the smallest bit out of its meticulous place. Emmett wondered if he hadn't been able to dodge, and offered to slushie the guy who did it back. Kurt had (sadly) declined, but Emmett planned on buying one anyway, just in case the guy tried to do it again near him.

Either way, he'll get the guy back eventually… as soon as he found out what the guy looked like.

This was the start of the tally system, accompanied by mental snapshots of the person and a list of all 'offenses' (tripping, pushing, slushies, mean words, etc). He didn't tell anyone about his new system. He figured they all kept their own, just in case, too.

By the time he had worked out how to get revenge for Kurt sooner or later, the teacher announced that it was now sign-up week for all clubs, though a few would allow other students to join throughout the year. Kurt perked up immediately, as did a few others. Emmett supposed there were other clubs besides Glee and Football. That was a nice thought.

Maybe he'll surprise Kurt. He _had_ complimented him when he sung a mostly forgotten song in the shower that one time…

**| |ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø| |**

The moment Harry jumped through the veil at 23:29 PM on July 30th, 1997, Luna woke up, gasping for air she couldn't get and covered in a cold sweat. Her blonde hair was done up comically in multiple curlers, since the next day was one of her best friends birthdays, and she was planning a surprise party for him, along with Neville, who was handling invitations. Her eyes held none of the usual dreaminess people associated with her, but were filled with the glow of terror.

As a result of the explosion that killed her mother, Luna had been exposed to a different magic than most people could handle naturally, let alone produce. It gave her odd feelings that she later came to view as especially vivid premonitions, and she used to amuse herself by thinking of situations her magic could be warning her about. It especially came in handy when she was caught during the war, and later rescued by Harry, who had been separated from the other two thirds of the Golden Trio for months. She hadn't been all that scared, since she knew someone would find her eventually.

When her savior finally came, she saw he was cracking. Forced isolation, being hunted by an ever expanding group of madmen, falling further into a certain madness that Luna had glimpsed back when they stormed the ministry, and she had watched Sirius Black fall into the veil; they were all taking their own toll on him, breaking him down bit by bit.

After he helped her, she stayed with him, helping him when she could. She'd never been more thankful for her premonitions and imagination, since it helped lead them to Neville, who held the key to finding the other horcruxes, what Harry was searching high and low for. Ever since, they'd been close, hoping they were helping the others recover. Luna knew Harry would fall, regardless of how much they helped; she had seen in those green, green eyes of his. The War, most predominantly the Final Battle where he had lost the last of his family, had destroyed his heart.

She had hoped that maybe she was wrong for once when he had lived this long. He had once said he wished to live until his seventeenth birthday. She had hoped that maybe she would get one more day to say goodbye. And in a way, she was wrong. She didn't _have_ the next day.

Curled up on the blankets, Luna cried until the sun shone through her window and onto her walls, highlighting the words beneath her hand-painted portrait of Harry.

_Friends._

▫ộ»** Mischief Managed **«ộ▫

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><p><strong>AN**: Funny that last Sunday was a holiday, and this Sunday is a new year altogether. (pun included of course). I also wish you a Happy New Year, where ever you are all at, even if you don't celebrate it for a while. It's a little short chapter, but this will likely be an average size for this story.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **I am absurdly proud of this, for some reason. Probably because I'm actually sticking to a schedule? The fact that I only finished this this morning? The fact that I've been up for nearly 19 hours, and am still thinking rationally? Either way, this is awesome, and I hope you guys love it just as much as I do.

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><p>▫ộ»<strong>I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good <strong>«ộ▫

When Luna didn't show up to help decorate Harry's home for his surprise birthday party, something she had been planning for weeks, Neville got worried and headed to her house, which she had received after her father was discovered dead. He got even more concerned when he found her crying upstairs, tangled up in her sheets. Not paying any attention to her state of dress (which was to say none), he walked around to her side of the bed and pulled her into his arms, where she laid her head on his shoulder. He couldn't make out anything she was mumbling, but he caught Harry's name several times.

"Hey, Lu, Luna, what're you crying about?" Neville eventually asked when her weeping eventually tapered off into sniffles.

"Ha-Har-eee, he— Neville!" And then the crying started again, this time somehow worse than before. He was barely able to piece together part of her jumbled speech afterwards to mean "dead."

He sat in a stunned silence, arms slack around his last actual friend as he struggled to comprehend what this could mean.

**| |ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø| |**

Emmett was completely oblivious to anything his death might have caused, considering he couldn't remember trying to kill himself in the first place. It had been six weeks afterwards after all, in a completely new dimension even, so most of the consequences to his 'death' would be old news by now, surely.

With who he had been, it wasn't. It was still very big news. Not that he knew any of this, of course.

Nor will he for a long while, since at the moment he was dreaming of high-pitched screams and roaring fire, kicking at his blankets in his restless and troubled sleep. He'd been up for more than an extra hour and a half finding a song in his range (which, he was pleased to say, was quite extensive with little to no extra effort) to use in his audition piece for Glee. This left him being a bit more tired than usual when he finally went to sleep at 10:48PM, rather than his usual time of nine.

That may be the reason for his disturbing nightmare that felt like he had lived it instead of imagined it in his subconscious.

…

He knew he needed to get to his little sister, just a sense of urgency that he was close enough to touch her, but he couldn't feel anything but the flames scorching his back with how hot they were, like hellfire. He was sweating, deaf to anything but the inferno bellowing behind him for his life. He felt a flash of it scorch along his side as he caught a glimpse of light blonde hair and yelled desperately, "_Luna!"_

…

In the real world, the half-empty bottled water Emmett had left on his nightstand wobbled dangerously before it began to rise into the air seemingly by itself. The clock next to it started giving inaccurate readings, stuff like 34:88PM. Then Emmett started screaming in his sleep, clawing at the still fairly new coffee-brown blankets and himself as he twisted among his sheets. The extra pillow launched off his bed and smacked into the opposing wall, right next to the open doorway and exploded into a cloud of goose feathers, the pale green pillowcase drifting to the floor in ripped tatters.

Burt had heard the screaming coming from the newest occupant in his home and had quickly gotten out of bed and down the hall in record time. He saw the feathers drifting out of the doorway and immediately rushed into the room. Finn had also heard the yelling and had fallen out of bed, sudden and hard enough that it had woken him up from a dream involving pecan pie and a chicken that wanted to eat it that wouldn't stop chasing him. Kurt jolted awake and ignored any routine he could have possibly followed when he tripped on the way out of the room to where he could identify Emmett's voice echoing from. Carole had also woken, but had followed at a more sedate pace behind her husband, anxious to hear anything that could suggest what she should do.

Burt was almost relieved to see no one was in Emmett's room, but was startled to see Emmett clawing at his body in his sleep. He didn't even notice the bottle of water floating lazily at eye level, so concerned was he with stopping Emmett from causing himself bodily harm. He grabbed at Emmett's hand, dragging them away from his side, which was covered in multiple bleeding cuts and pinking lines. Some of his sheets were already covered in his blood. He was struggling to keep Emmett's arms from jerking out from under his hands. He was apparently a lot stronger than his lanky form would suggest.

Finn appeared, still somewhat groggy from being woken so violently from a deep sleep, and was waken fully when he saw Burt attempting to control Emmett's arms, his feet beginning to kick out in his sleep. He looked like he was having a seizure, like the one Finn had seen in a movie once in health class back in freshman year. He went forward and grabbed his friend's legs to keep him from kicking Burt, who really didn't need to go to the hospital again. Didn't stop Emmett from nearly kicking him in the chest, however. He looked around the room with a face of someone hoping to find a paramedic to aid with a crisis, wanting to spot rope or something convenient like a belt to help him.

Kurt nearly slipped on the torn pillowcase, his fear for someone close to him making him uncoordinated and not his usual graceful self. He went to the left side of the bed, the side of the bed where his father wasn't holding Emmett down. He began trying to talk to him, trying to calm him down while being unable to completely ignore the horrible screaming coming from his friend's throat. It sounded like he was being dipped into fire. His mind was whirring with things to try and pull Emmett back up from whatever nightmare he was stuck in.

…

"_Harry! Help me, Harry!"_ came the response. "_I can't get out of these chains!"_

The fire leapt closer to the flicker of pale hair that Emmett could barely see through the fire. His side ached horribly, but he was able to ignore the burn that should've been enough to cripple him. He yelled, "_I'm coming, Luna!"_

"_Hurry, please! It's getting closer!"_

Someone dressed in black, a Death Eater, seemed to come out of nowhere, screaming, "_Die, Potter! You need to die!"_

"Emmett!" a faint voice yelled. Who was Emmett? "Emmett, wake up!"

…

"Come on, Emmett, wake up! You need to wake up! It's not real! Whatever it is isn't real! It's all in your head!" Kurt was yelling over the ongoing screams, ignoring the tears that blurred his vision, but not letting them fall. His hands were grasping the sides of Emmett's face, keeping him facing Kurt who kept pleading. This was the worst nightmare he'd ever seen anyone have. Emmett wasn't responding to any of his pleading, his hands still warped into claws as he tried to continuing hurting himself, his kicks getting more aggressive. Finn was nearly thrown off of him several times when his attention apparently wandered, something Kurt couldn't _believe_ Finn was still able to do at this time.

Carole was hovering outside the door, feeling useless for not being able to do anything. A light bulb in a nearby wall lamp in the hall exploded, scattering shards of glass all over the empty corridor. She cried out, covering her head with her arms, but was somehow not harmed or covered in glass, the remains of the bulb seeming to fall _around_ her rather than _on_ her, though she hardly noticed.

…

"Carole!"

"Dammit, Emmett, wake _up!"_

…

Emmett suddenly froze, his body growing limp, but before anyone could really process that and react, Emmett's green eyes were open, wild with fright and desperation, face holding a thin sheen of sweat, the only evidence of whatever had been plaguing him in his sleep. He almost started struggling again when he realized people were holding him down, but stayed still, body tense, when he somehow recognized the voice that said, "Oh, thank _God_, Emmett, you're _awake_," in relief. The other two pairs of hands and arms released him instantly and Emmett was able to sit up, drawing away from the hands that slid from his face and onto his shoulders, still ignoring the mild ache in his side.

"Where's Luna? The fire? Where am I?" came Emmett's gasping questions, his accent thicker than it had been in almost four weeks.

"What fire? Who's Luna, Emmett?"

"What? What're you talking about? There's someone named Luna here?" was the bewildered reply.

"No, of course not, but you were asking for a Luna," Kurt replied, feeling the faint stirrings of annoyance with how _out_ of it Emmett seemed to be, but he pushed them away. Emmett had just had a rather traumatizing nightmare, after all.

"I was?" he asked as he turned his body to face Kurt, but clenched his teeth when he felt the mild ache from before flare into 'shit what stabbed me and took off' territory.

"Shoot, let's ignore that for now and get you some ointment or something for the cuts. I don't know how you got them, but they must sting like crazy," Kurt fussed.

"You got them when you were clawing at yourself in your sleep. It's why we were holding you down. We didn't want you hurting yourself and us while you were still snoozing," Burt said from where he was in the doorway, checking Carole to make sure there wasn't any glass in her hair.

Finn was out looking for some cut ointment (with their family, it was more than practical to have one somewhere) and a broom and pan to clean up the glass. He was also thinking about the water bottle he'd seen _floating_ in the air, the water still inside of it bubbling. Was Emmett doing that, or had Finn still been asleep enough to have a waking dream? He had had a few of those as a kid, but they were usually things like the fridge being orange or a family picture suddenly inverting colours. It's never been something as bizarre as that water bottle, that's for sure.

Finn decided to think on it before he asked. This was the first time something like this had happened in the nearly two months Emmett had been with them. Maybe it was a fluke, or a dream…

▫ộ»** Mischief Managed **«ộ▫

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><p><strong>AN**: I may or may not have jumped the gun with the nightmare thing, but that's been in my head for a while now. I've actually started taking notes!

Virtual cookies and milk and a pinata to beat with a wooden stick for anyone who can guess why I used the time I did.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I thought it was obvious who owned it (and that's not me, sad to say).

**A/N:** I would also like to say thank you for all the reviews! (except for that one guy who called it boring. Can you at least say _why_ you found it boring so I can improve?)

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><p>▫ộ»<strong>I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good <strong>«ộ▫

Sirius sighed. Sometimes he loved living in León, Guanajuato, Mexico, but more often, he hated it, since it stood for all he had lost by being careless in a bloody serious battle. Imagine his surprise to wake up in a desert, partially covered in sand, and unable to move and do more than make an odd noise or two to try and alert others he was there. Worse was that the locals couldn't speak anything he could understand at first until they took him to one of their older children, a fifteen year old girl who reminded him painfully of Harry and his last memory of the look on his face when he 'died'…

Thank Merlin this kid could speak more English than the older people, and was able to get the fact that he had no idea where he was, and couldn't move. The adults ended up experimenting with all sorts of 'remedies' (none of which would ever work, since it was magic holding him like this; he'd have to wait for it to wear off on its own). The fifteen year old, who he learned was named Joséphina Alvarez, had rolled her eyes when they tried some kind of hippy mixture and he was finally able to shift his body. He didn't have the heart to tell them it was just wearing off, and had nothing to do with the odd plant.

Of course, this led to them thinking it was a miracle cure, even if their (Daughter? Niece? What was she?) kept saying that it hadn't done anything. She was able to read Sirius' face rather easily. Almost as easily as Harry, actually. They ended up selling it, and quickly got rich off of it within three months.

At least Sirius could say he had learned something. Spanish was very useful, especially when stranded in Latin America.

**| |ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø| |**

Emmett tried very hard the next day to overlook the 'episode' he'd had the night before. Finn kept giving him odd looks (not that he blamed him, really; it _was_ pretty scary) and Kurt seemed to be babying him a little more than usual, making sure he ate a healthy breakfast and checking that he had all his schoolwork. Carole gave him some sad, pitying looks, though she did seem a little more skittish. Considering Emmett had learned that glass had exploded on her during his nightmare, it was to be expected. Burt seemed to be the only one who wanted to respect his wishes and ignore that the whole thing ever happened.

Halfway through break, Emmett was beyond annoyed. He wanted to pinch Kurt to get him to stop; listening to him whine about his skincare routine being ruined would be more welcome than listening to him extol the virtues of relaxing before sleeping with meditation and avoiding eating before heading up to bed.

To be honest, Emmett already did all of that. He'd realized early on in his stay at the Hummel-Hudson home that, unless he forced himself to relax, he would stay awake all night. He wasn't sure why, but he had thought he was healing himself of that habit until the nightmare. Now here Kurt was, getting the others interested in what had happened the night before by talking about it incessantly. It was just making him a little bit madder by the minute. Why couldn't Kurt wait until they were home before bringing it up?

To think it was only Tuesday.

Emmett tried his best to ignore any health-related questions Kurt had to ask during French class, but only until the teacher had said the assignment was to answer the questions the person in the seat next to you could ask. Some bullshit about identifying what they needed to work on regarding sentence structure and conjugating verbs. _She's_ the one teaching a French class with an Italian last name.

He gave monosyllabic answers instead.

During the rush for the cafeteria, Emmett managed to ditch Kurt and head for the bulletin board near the office, the one where all the club signup sheets were pinned. He was going to sign-up before he lost his nerve to be spiteful (even if he really wasn't being spiteful at all… unless he decided not to tell Kurt). The board was literally not visible under all the different shades of green, blue, and pink, though there was only one yellow one that read, _GLEE CLUB SIGN-UPS_.

It was covered in stupid, rather ugly drawings of former members.

**1**: Rachel Berry, followed by a gold star sticker, was defaced to have devil horns and a pitchfork.

**2**: Finn Hudson was nearly covered up in a large, overblown writing of FAG, as well as underlined several times.

**3**: Brittany S. Pierce, which was, oddly enough, left alone.

And so the list went until the last one.

**12**: Quinn Fabray, which had SLUT stamped onto it, somehow. Who carried around a stamp that said that?

Line 13 was empty. Emmett signed his name a little harder than necessary, still feeling a little angry. **13**: Emmett Black. Merlin, he had horrible handwriting. He almost felt sorry for the teachers. He also may have torn the paper a little… What? It was cheap and thin!

After having signed up (he wasn't going to make having that nightmare and only half of his sleeping hours pointless, dammit), he headed back to the cafeteria, spotting the gleek's table easily, since there were empty tables on all sides of them. For some reason, Kurt wasn't there. When he plopped down, the first question he asked was, "Where's Kurt?"

Tina answered him from her spot across from him, "He got slushied again. He's in the girl's bathroom cleaning it off."

Emmett's dark green eyes narrowed. "Was it the same guy as yesterday?" he questioned suspiciously. His glare at the guy (once he found out who it was, which was relatively easy; he was the guy who instigated a high-five with his buddies once he saw Kurt had changed clothes) should've spelled out rather clearly what would happen if/when he did it again. Apparently not.

"Oh, no, it was that Delacruz guy that Kurt said had called you an idiot or something," she replied. "He said it was 'payback'."

"Hm," he nodded as his eyes scanned the cafeteria for the moronic senior. The dark-skinned blonde (obviously dyed, if he could see the dark brown roots from across the entire room) was laughing with his friends. He'll get the bastard back somehow. _This_… was strike two.

▫ộ»** Mischief Managed **«ộ▫

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><p><strong>AN**: Dropped a few more hints about Emmett/Harry. I think I'm slushy-ing Kurt a bit much, but... eh. *shrugs*

I am also open to any ideas or scenes you guys can give me. To be honest, I've had this done since Tuesday, I just wanted to stay on schedule. I'm also running out of things to do with this, even if I know where I want it to go.

If anyone would also like some of the explanations without having to go dig them up yourselves, (like how the veil/portal made it's way from Mexico to Ohio), feel free to ask and I'll give it to you in the next chapter!


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** If I owned either series, neither would be as wildly popular (though I think that's mostly due to Crookshanks and Kurt Hummel, but who am I to say?).

**A/N:** I am seriously running out of where to go from here. Prompts on what you guys would like to see?

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><p>▫ộ»<strong>I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good <strong>«ộ▫

At the end of the day, Emmett had no idea how he ended up cornered in the school parking lot against the building. One minute he was going to wait in Kurt's car (they'd ran into Coach Sylvester on the way out, who then proceeded to drag Kurt away, despite his complaining), and the next, the hockey team (which included that Karofsky guy Kurt had told him about) had surrounded him.

"Well, if it isn't the fairy's little boyfriend," one sneered. He was pretty non-descript; brown hair, brown eyes, light-colored skin. Even his sneer was rather generic.

"I'm pretty sure I'd know if I met a fairy, thanks, much less date one. The wings would be a big giveaway, don't you think?" Emmett replied in a deadpan voice, an eyebrow raised like he'd seen Kurt do when he was mocking someone. "And you're my height, so wouldn't you be rather _little_, as well?" The way he said it made it sound like he was referring to something else.

Plain-Bully 1 glared and had just opened his mouth to retort when Delacruz cut across him. He also ignored Emmett's wit, sadly. "And since you're the fairy's boyfriend, we need to teach you a lesson," he said with a cruel smile.

"And you need to get a new hair dresser and go to a certified psychologist if you're feeling the need to start teaching. With how some of the teachers are here, that's not a good thing, I don't think."

And he once again ignored Emmett's comebacks. "What do you say, boys? Does this fag need a lesson?"

"Yeah!" "Teach it a lesson!" "He can't do anything about it! "Midget!" came he jeering responses.

Thus, with no warning, Plain-Bully 1 launched his fist forward, eager to prove he _wasn't_ little in any way. Emmett dipped his head a little and the clenched hand smacked hard into the brick wall behind him. "Ah! Shit!"

"You should get that checked out. Couldn't it affect your playing?" Emmett felt the need to point out before another hockey player tried to go for his face, too. He easily dodged that, making the player punch Delacruz, who yelped, clutching his nose, which was already starting to bleed. He had apparently tried to sneak up behind Emmett for a sucker punch.

It then turned into a free-for-all, Emmett disappearing underneath them.

Possibly.

With all the fighting going on, no one heard Coach Sylvester approach until she roared, "Just _what_ is going on out here?" Kurt was behind her, peeking out from behind pretty much the only person who could threaten the hockey team into submission.

"That new kid Black—" "He started it—" "Scrawny bastard got what was coming to him—"

"SHUT UP! _None_ of you has explained what was happening, yet, so get started with that first before I make this little scuffle look like Yakuza calling in a debt!" she bullied them, confusing pretty much every single one of them, since they didn't know that the Yakuza were essentially the Japanese Mafia. "Snap to it!"

"Oh, was _this_ why there was so much yelling?" Emmett asked with a(n almost) surprised tone to his voice as he turned around the corner before any of the hockey players could actually start explaining what had happened. The majority glared at him, (he wasn't sure how he did it, but he reappeared behind the corner and decided to stay there. What if Kurt came out only to find these jerks?), while the rest glared at Kurt like it was his fault their prey had gotten away.

"You didn't stop it, Black?" Sylvester said sharply, eyes narrowed.

"To be honest, no. The sports teams always seem to be yelling, and I never heard, 'Help!' or anything similar, so I figured they were just playing jokes on each other or something," Emmett replied.

"And where have you been?"

"Waiting 'round the corner for Kurt. He's my ride home."

Sylvester said that if she caught the players horsing around on school property again, they will automatically fail whatever she had jurisdiction over, then beat them like piñatas because they obviously idiotic enough to stay in one place for so long. Emmett wasn't paying much attention as she grabbed Kurt and Emmett's upper arms and began to drag them away towards Kurt's Navigator as the hockey team left in a pained sort of humiliation.

"Careful, Black. Odds like this don't happen often, so don't count on them," was all the woman said before she seemed to disappear into the background of the scenery, despite the bright red tracksuit she was wearing.

Emmett was confused, but decided to shrug it off. Maybe it was just him that today had seemed so very, very crazy.

Kurt seemed to feel much the same way as they shared a look and climbed into the car to head back home.

▫ộ»** Mischief Managed **«ộ▫

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><p><strong>AN**: Eh, school fight. Can you tell I'm bored?

Sorry if the ending seems a bit abrupt, but I barely remembered it was Sunday (my dad freaking out over football was my reminder), so I had to finish it.

I also know I said I wouldn't try to rely on OC's, but that seems to not be working so well as my schedule.

Thoughts?


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** Glee always meant happy, and Harry Potter used to refer to a _really_ hairy guy in a ceramics shop.

**A/N:** This was all I had. The aftermath will be the next chapter. :D

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><p>▫ộ»<strong>I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good <strong>«ộ▫

Wednesday was a little less… intense. He was only threatened four times, but no one dared do anything, since they all thought he was Coach Sylvester's newest pet project, and no one wanted to clean the janitor's closet with their hairbrush (no one wanted to contemplate how to _do_ that, let alone be _forced_ to).

Thursday, Emmett had to deal with petty glaring, which wasn't all that hard, he found. Delacruz looked amusing, especially with the large bruise on his face that spread a little over his eye and onto his cheekbone. He alternated between glaring at the 'two fairies' and the guy on his team who punched him on accident. Emmett still noticed that Karofsky stared, probably even more often and more blatantly, at Kurt, though he could see why; Kurt did look good in his jeans, in a purely platonic way, of course.

Friday is a whole new ball game. Emmett was prepared for everything he had planned. What, you didn't think he'd let a repeat offender off with just getting punched by his friend, did you? Oh no, Emmett was a touch more sadistic than that. He'd snuck in the night before, having discovered he knew how to open doors somewhat instinctively (or maybe the janitor sucked at locking the side doors) on the first day when his locker was jammed, and planted several innocuous cans over doorways that were tied to the ceiling. The contents were easily removable, of course, since he didn't think that the cleaners liked cleaning up sticky things, let alone what he had in the buckets.

Now he just needed to get the triggers all set right…

**| |ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø| |**

Things went off without a hitch the next day, and with such excellent timing, too.

Delacruz and his little friends had apparently decided that, while they couldn't go after Emmett, they could go for Kurt. Delacruz and his gang of idiots each had differently colored slushies in hand as they walked down the hall, decidedly unpleasant smiles on their faces. Kurt's back was turned, gesticulating wildly as he motioned one thing or another to Tina, who was nodding empathetically. Emmett had stopped by a conveniently placed water fountain as Kurt and Tina continued walking.

Emmett saw the pair first, something telling him to look for danger, and glared in warning. Either they didn't care about it, or they didn't see it. Whichever way, they tried to continue walking past to slushie Kurt and/or Tina, and Emmett couldn't have that, now could he?

His finger twitched, he rocked on his heels a moment as he stood back up, and the trigger was pulled.

A bucket of frozen fish sticks emptied itself on top of Delacruz, who had just opened his mouth to yell for Kurt's attention. He succeeded in getting several other students to look at him as well as his intended target as a veritable cascade fell on him. Karofsky, to his immediate right, yelped in surprise and jumped back before the other container, set on top of a balance beam in front of an art class, was triggered as well by Karofsky tripping over it, its thread already pulled taut by the tension of the previous pail. A bucket of matching tartar sauce (to go with the fish sticks of course, and was, also, almost _obscenely_ white) was dumped on Karofsky's head. Some of it had splashed off of him to hit Azimio and Plain-Bully-1, both of which were also behind Karofsky and Delacruz.

There was something close to a terrified silence before people began to laugh.

▫ộ»** Mischief Managed **«ộ▫

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><p><strong>AN**: I suppose this means I left you all on a cliffhanger, doesn't it?


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** Hahahaha. No.

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><p>▫ộ»<strong>I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good <strong>«ộ▫

"What in the world…?" The guidance counselor, Emma Pillsbury, trailed off as she walked into the scene, having heard the students' laughter from down the hall. She looked positively horrified at the breadcrumbs and sauce splattered everywhere: doors, walls, the floor, some other students who just made disgusted faces at their clothes and went to go change into something else…

Emmett wondered why she looked like that, though he had a fairly good idea on why.

**| |ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø| |**

Sirius cursed his ancestors as he stubbed his toe against a bed frame. The Alvarez's had kept him as a good luck charm, thinking he had brought them prosperity and fortune to their humble adobe. He was subsequently given his own room rather than sleeping on the couch, and this wasn't at all a bad thing. Matter of fact, it was usually a great thing. At the moment however, it was a rather unfortunate thing as this room happened to face away from the sun and was shrouded in darkness every morning.

Thus, Sirius kicking his foot against bare wood and cussing himself blue as he stumbled holding his foot.

"Sirius, what are you _doing_ up there? Fighting with a chupacabra?" Joséphina hollered from downstairs, where she was bringing the new dog (some strange hairless variety that would be no good as a guard dog) in from doing its business.

"Nah, just breaking my foot on the furniture!"

"Well, don't get blood on anything! And hurry up before breakfast is ready and Grandpa steals it all!" 'Grandpa,' as even people who didn't know him affectionately called him, was rather bad about that, stealing most of the first round of breakfast. "We still need to finalize the plans!"

The Alvarez's (and Sirius) were going to surprise some distant relative in Ohio. Sirius wasn't sure who it was, but the girl had married some Lopez guy before she took off. Her younger sister, who she had left with only the little home they had lived in and not a peso more, wanted to rub her success in her older sister's face, and offer to take in any children her sister had spawned without the blessing of the family.

Sirius thought it was nice, that they were just against the girl rather than her entire family. He wished his family had been more like that. Or maybe just the Wizarding world in general, whichever came first, he wasn't picky.

They were discussing when best to go, as they had realized a while ago that schools would have been in session for about a week or two, depending on what types of schools were in the area. They had already decided they were taking a plane, first class, to the nearest city and traveling there with an expensive car or limo. Sirius wasn't sure why, exactly, besides just rubbing salt into the wound by throwing around money.

Okay, so maybe they were more like his family than he liked to think about. They were just more Muggle and unable to curse the girl properly.

▫ộ»** Mischief Managed **«ộ▫

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><p><strong>AN**: Yeah, it's not very long. I am seriously stuck on what to do at the moment, and this was another rush job, as I had been banned from the computer for most of the week. (Don't ask why, it's a long, completely stupid story). I just want to thank you all for the wonderful reviews, however, besides that one guy who I have decided to laugh at because he still hasn't given me a plausible reason that this is boring.

I would also like to promote The Chronicle, if only because it reminded me of Kurt at first... until the guy went crazy (and that's all I'll say on the matter). (Besides it being better than The Grey, in my opinion. There was no ending!)


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** *cuddles Kurt plushie*

**A/N:** Sorry it took so long to get this in! I've been having issues with logging into FFN all day. D: Fortunately, it fixed itself right up towards/after midnight, so hopefully you guys aren't too mad!

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><p>▫ộ»<strong>I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good <strong>«ộ▫

Neville jerked awake. Did he really have a dream involving fish sticks, tartar sauce, evil laughter, and Harry?

No, wait, that would be something he would do, if he were pissed enough.

**| |ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø| |**

Emmett may have giggled (manly) a little when Ms. Pillsbury fell into a dead faint, forcing Kurt to catch her before she hit her head on the floor. The two main targets were both blushing with anger and embarrassment as they stalked away down the hall, probably looking for a bathroom. After forcing the rest of his laughter down, Emmett walked from the fountain to Kurt, who was looking pretty confused on what to do with the fainted counselor in his arms.

Emmett grinned. "So now you're sweeping women off their feet, Kurt?"

Tina giggled while Kurt gave him a disgruntled look. "We should probably take her to the nurse's office or something so she could sleep it off," Tina said, getting a nod of agreement from Kurt.

"At least it's close," Kurt grunted as he hefted Ms. Pillsbury into his arms in a more comfortable position.

The four would-be slushiers had vanished as soon as they realized their plan had gone horribly, _horribly_ wrong and _they_ were the ones being laughed at. A spattering of students here and there in hall were taking pictures of the damage. One particular student had apparently heard all the noise and came running, shoes sliding in the puddles of sauce and landing on his back, prompting more laughs.

Emmett didn't feel too bad about it; it was Jacob Ben Israel, someone he had heard a lot about over the summer from Rachel's long-winded rants.

**| |ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø| |**

Once Finn heard about the fish stick incident, he instantly knew Emmett was involved. He'd been looking most assuredly mischievous the last week, very much like Kurt when he was planning a new shopping trip and wanting to drag Finn along with him…

As soon as he said something, however, Puck had looked at him like he was crazy.

He decided not to say anything again… until something else happened.

**| |ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø| |**

By the end of the day, everyone had heard of Karofsky and Delacruz being pranked rather awesomely. They were close to being the laughing stock of the school, despite how angry they looked when they heard a single word of the prank from anyone. It took two black eyes for the students to get the hint to not bring it up within earshot.

It was also audition day for Glee, after school. After the trio consisting of Tina, Kurt, and Emmett had dropped off Ms. Pillsbury, they had all headed to their respective classes. During Emmett's last class of the day, Practical Math, Mike Chang had given him a high-five. Emmett wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. Were people already saying he had something to do with it? He figured he could just go along with it, and high-fived back, smile on his face.

Mike waved goodbye to Emmett at the end of class as he walked to Kurt's class in the next hall over. Kurt had promised to introduce him to the club, and Emmett planned to hold him to that promise.

"You have a song and everything prepared already, right, Emmett?" was Kurt's first question once he was close enough.

"What, no 'how was your day?' My day went wonderfully, thanks," Emmett said good-naturedly. "But yeah, I got a song."

"Mr. Shue will probably love it."

"I'm sure he will."

▫ộ»** Mischief Managed **«ộ▫


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** *finishes kitty!Kurt picture* I do not own Adam Lambert, nor the rights to the song "Aftermath" by Adam Lambert.

**A/N:** I'm going to make up for the late chapter from last week by publishing it early!

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><p>▫ộ»<strong>I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good <strong>«ộ▫

The thing about promising to introduce Emmett to the club is that it was unnecessary. He had already met them all over the summer, so there was no real reason to introduce them. Of course, Emmett got Kurt to promise that before Kurt had proceeded to introduce them to each other during the vacation. Still, this was the first time he'd met any of them in a formal setting. (those weekend parties with those who hadn't gone to camp didn't count).

There was also the matter of meeting the infamous Mr. Shue.

Emmett wouldn't admit it, even to himself as Kurt dragged him to an open classroom after school ended, but he was a little nervous. About several things, really, but he also wasn't admitting that.

"Hello, Mr. Black!" Mr. Shue said with a smile. "You must be the Emmett the kids've been gushing about."

Emmett felt a small blush spread over his cheeks. "And I'm assuming you're Mr. Shue?" At the answering nod, he continued, "I was going to audition today for the club."

"Okay then. Whenever you're ready," he replied kindly.

Those words did soothe his frayed nerves a little as he took a deep breath, then began. "_Have you lost your way, living in the shadow of the messes that you made? And so it goes, everything inside your circle starts to overflow_," he sang, voice in his usual speaking range. It sounded rather nice in the acoustics of the music room, Emmett noted. Much better than in the bathroom, which was too cramped to really throw his voice all that well. The gob smacked faces from everyone but Mr. Shue (who was used to his kids surprising him) and Kurt (who had heard him before) was rather nice, too.

"_Take a step before you leap into the colours that you seek. You get back what you give away, so don't look back on yesterday_," had his voice getting progressively higher. "_Wanna scream out, "No more hiding." Don't be afraid of what's inside. Gonna tell ya, "You'll be alright," in the afterma~th,_" was a pretty nice note, probably another octave above his normal tone.

Kurt's eyes got wider. When he had last heard Emmett sing, it was to a song he thought was the Beatles, since it sounded familiar, but the words were muffled by the soundproof walls and door and the pitch was _much_ lower. He hadn't known Emmett could reach these notes.

"_Anytime anybody pulls you down, anytime anybody says you're not allowed… Just remember, you are not alone, in the afterma~th,_" Emmett held the note for a few seconds before letting it drop. When he saw Kurt was now looking at him with stars in his eyes, he was a little creeped out. He'd only ever seen Kurt look like that regarding his clothes and shopping, but never at Emmett, nor his voice. "Kurt? You alright? You're kinda freaking me out with the look in your eyes right now. You look too much like Rachel."

"Rachel can never match my fabulousness, thank you. And you never told me you can get that high!" Kurt scolded with an easy smile, taking away the sting that would usually accompanied any bards he threw out. A few of his fellow glee-clubbers (behind his back of course) shared looks. If most of them weren't already sure Kurt had a crush on Emmett from over the summer, then this just proved it. He'd done The Smile way back when with Finn, before he had admitted he was gay.

Emmett ran a hand through his messy hair in embarrassment, the blush returning to his face. "Is it really that much of a big deal? I mean, you do those notes whenever you try just as easily, and so does Rachel, the few times I heard her over the summer," he pointed out.

"We're different, though! I'm a countertenor, and she's a girl! Just listening to you wouldn't have given me a clue at all that you could hit that!"

Mr. Shue cleared his throat, chuckling at the glare Kurt gave him for interrupting. Emmett looked a bit sheepish. "Sorry, Mr. Shue," he said. "Uhm… what's your decision?"

"Pretty easy. Welcome to the club, Black."

"Call me Emmett," he said with a grin. Turning to Kurt, he threw his arms around the taller boy in an enthusiastic hug. "I made it in!"

▫ộ»** Mischief Managed **«ộ▫


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** I really wish I owned Kurt, or at least something signed by Chris Colfer and Darren Criss, but I (sadly) don't.

**A/N:** This is a little longer than my average, but I like how it came out. :D

* * *

><p>▫ộ»<strong>I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good <strong>«ộ▫

Luna smiled sadly as she watered her new species of tree. It was a holly tree mixed with a Whomping Willow, its branches scraping against her ceiling, but she didn't mind. She had finished reading the book Harry had left her of his life. He had written on the first page (in a childish scrawl that showed his young age at the time of writing) that he didn't want to die someday and not have someone know what he was like, at least. It had taken her a week to read it, what with having to sort out his updated will with the Weasley's, the Ministry, and the goblins. The goblins had almost gone on a warpath when the Ministry tried to seize the Potter assets saying he was a war hero who would want the Ministry to benefit from it. It took several human employees of Gringotts to get them to calm down enough and a number of 'concerned customers' to get the Ministry to back off.

You wouldn't believe that he had given it to her in his will, rather than before, with how long it took to finish. It broke her heart to see how he thought of himself and those around him. He seemed so sad, just getting more depressed as he got older…

She was thinking of publishing it. Luna remembered what happened to Dumbledore, that horrid Skeeter woman being what she was, and she didn't want that to happen to Harry. He was much too sweet, and dearly beloved by his true friends.

Neville was still trying to move on from Harry's death. It had only been two weeks, but at least Luna had the thought that maybe he was happier away from the 'reminders of his failures,' if she quoted Harry. His grief wasn't made much better by benefiting from the will. Harry had given him his family's monetary assets, his family name, and a precious family heirloom. Neville had seen just how precious it was to Harry when they lived in the same dorm at Hogwarts. He'd cried when the goblins had handed it over.

The Whomping/holly tree hybrid reached out a smooth branch and touched her cheek before drawing back and resting still again.

A small smile graced Luna's pale face as a tear rolled down her cheek. "I hope you're happier wherever you are, Harry," she whispered to herself.

**| |ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø| |**

That weekend was awesome. New Directions held a congratulations party for Emmett, on account of all of them having gotten to know the guy over the summer and coming to the conclusion that he was a cool guy. Puck provided the alcohol, which Kurt avoided like the plague. It took a while, but Emmett was able to wrangle the story from Santana, who was howling with laughter as she recounted it.

Emmett had a vague memory of someone, a man if the timber in his recollection was to be trusted, calling him Bambi. _Be safe, Bambi_, the man had said. _Remember whom you can trust with your love, not your life_.

It was good advice. Emmett resolved to remember it even as he swigged a couple of mouthfuls of beer.

Most of the club was drunk within the hour, their bodies not really prepared for the alcohol levels. Thank god it was the weekend and they could all sleep at Rachel's house, who's dads were out at a lover's retreat (Puck had slapped a hand over her mouth before she could go on a tangent about what that was and what they would be doing at such a place).

Brittany had giggled, catching what was left unsaid.

After two hours of drunkenly singing random songs (for the record, Rachel's house was soundproofed by her father's after their neighbors complained they could hear their daughter singing at eleven o'clock at night, and they had work in the morning), someone eventually decided to start a game of truth or dare, something they all thought was a little lame (until Emmett said he'd never played before, from what he could remember. Santana declared she would go first. "Truth or Dare, Puckerman?"

"Dare. Duh," he'd said almost nonchalantly.

"I dare you to find the bottle of lube hidden in Rach's Dads' room. They're gay and practically married; there's bound to be lube somewhere," she said with too much relish. Or maybe the smell of beer on her breath made it seem that way.

Puck grimaced. "You go right for the squick, don't you?"

"Yes. Now go find it, lover boy."

It was rather boring waiting for him to hurry up and shuffle dresser drawers open to find a bottle. Mercedes heard a muttered, "Oh, gross, man," and sniggered. She full out laughed from her spot across from Emmett and Kurt when he came out with an almost empty bottle that proclaimed it was strawberry flavored. With a quick shake of his head, Puck went to go put it back where he found it. Wouldn't do to have the parents come home and find their sex gadgets were all shuffled around. "Hummel! Truth of Dare?"

"… truth?" Kurt said hesitantly, making it seem like it was a bit of a question rather than the answer.

"Who do you think is the hottest guy here?" he said, waggling his eyebrows, snorting in amusement when Artie punched him in the shoulder.

"Oh come on man, you'll get all pissed when he says, 'Not you,' and you know it," Finn whined.

"And how would you know who I think's hot, Finn?" Kurt interrupted any thought that Puck could form before he could do so. Finn was also the only other one not drunk, so to hear this was something else.

Finn blushed. "I'd rather not say."

"And you still need to answer my question _truthfully_, Hummel," Puck reminded him.

This time Kurt blushed, cheekbones turning a fetching shade of red. He cursed having such pale skin's sometimes. He mumbled his answer, speaking clearer when Tina asked, "Who?" "Fine, fine, it's Emmett, alright?" he cried out, hiding his face in his hands.

"Aw," he heard his friend coo at him. "I find you hot, too."

Kurt couldn't believe his ears. He lifted his head enough to look at Emmett, who looked only slightly drunk. "Did I just hear you right?"

"Pro'lly. If your hearings going though, I suppose I'll have to show you," the green-eyed teen shrugged.

"What?" Kurt asked, still not sure if maybe he hadn't fainted in embarrassment earlier and this was all a dream. He dropped his hands away from his face in mild shock.

"Like this, Kurt," Emmett said before he leaned forward and peck a kiss on Kurt's lips.

▫ộ»** Mischief Managed **«ộ▫


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** I really wish I owned Kurt, or at least something signed by Chris Colfer and Darren Criss, but I (sadly) don't.

**A/N:** Yeah, it's a lot shorter than usual, but it's been a pretty hectic week.

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><p>▫ộ»<strong>I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good <strong>«ộ▫

When Emmett pulled away, a smile on his face, Kurt was staring wide-eyed at him, mouth open the smallest bit in his surprise. Santana grinned and said, "Wanky! Get some, Hummel!" Emmett winked at Kurt in response to her comment, and Finn made a face. That was giving him images he'd rather do without. He lived with both of them, and would rather not be scarred whenever he looked at the two.

It took Kurt a few seconds to process what had just happened before he leaned forward and kissed Emmett again. The rest of the (drunk) gleeclubbers cheered.

**| |ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø| |**

"C'mon, Sirius! The flight leaves soon!" Joséphina scolded the older man, tugging at her newest _Tio_'s jacket sleeve.

Sirius whined, "But 'Phina, the airport's probably empty! There won't be a lot of people in the way. What's the rush?"

"These tickets cost more than two thousand American dollars — we will _not_ miss our flight call, or so help me, I will lock you outside," she glared. _Perrito_ was such a whiny fellow. Maybe she should make him change and stash him with her little Juanito, the little Xoloitzcuintli puppy she had bought.

"Fine, fine, lead the way, 'Phina," he grumbled as she dragged him outside to the new car, Juanito yapping around her heels, wanting her to pick him up. "What about the others?"

"_Prima_ and her parents are already on their way there with _Abuelo_, waiting for your sorry butt to get a move on. I do hope you remember how to drive, _Perrito_."

"Of course! What do you take me for, 'Phina, an idiot?"

"Sometimes, yes. We need to _hurry_, Sirius! The flight's will start getting called soon!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, I'm going."

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><p><strong>AN**: *Tio means "uncle." Perrito means "little dog" in Spanish. Xoloitzcuintli are also known as Mexican Hairless Dogs, and are rather rare, perfect for a rich kid's lapdog. Prima refers to a female cousin. Abuelo means "grandpa/grandfather."

▫ộ»** Mischief Managed **«ộ▫


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** The adorable Kurt Hummel belongs to whomever wrote Glee (I can't remember their names), and the shortness that is Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I only little sketches of their fanon!counterparts.

**A/N:** I _really_ need to break this funk that's got me writing such short chapters!

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><p>▫ộ»<strong>I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good <strong>«ộ▫

When everyone woke up the next day, they all had hangovers — besides Emmett, who mentioned that he thought he drank stronger alcoholic drinks. He also mentioned he had a vague memory of his mouth being on fire, and the beer Puck gave out was nowhere near that sensation.

Puck had pouted.

The game of truth or dare had eventually died after the club celebrated the resolving of the UST between Emmett and Kurt. The club had felt "tortured" (Artie's words, not Puck's, amazingly enough) by it, and was happy the two were now going to date. Finn had an odd look on his face, though he usually did, so no one said anything, still hungover enough that their observational skills suffered.

Abruptly, Kurt giggled, drawing a curious look from Emmett, who was (sleep-)cuddling into his new boyfriend's side, and Tina, who just wanted to do something other than contemplate the (mild) headache she had that was trying to shove her brain through her eye sockets.

"What're ya thinkin' 'bout, Kurt?" Emmett asked, voice a little groggy with sleep.

Kurt just felt a smile bloom on his face as he leaned down a bit and nuzzled his boyfriend's cheek. "Just happy."

**| |ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø| |**

Sirius had never been this high before, even on a broom. He could see the patches reserved for agriculture, the cities far below his feet, the ocean a deep bottled blue-green that reminded him of Remus' tired eyes, and it caused him to wonder what had happened after he had 'died.' He felt a pang at the thought that he might never know.

Joséphina, sensing something was up, reached out to touch his shoulder. "_Perrito_? Everything alright?"

"Yeah," he breathed, looking out the window, blue-gray eyes foggy with remembered snatches of happiness, fingers clenching at the armrests. "Just… remembering."

To think he thought flying on a plane would be awesome.

Juanito, sitting in his owner's lap, licked Sirius' closest hand, a breathless little whine in his throat. Sirius' eyes cleared a little before he gave a watery smile and scratched behind the puppy's ears.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: I'm dragging this out rather far, aren't I? lol.

I am guilty of being a Kurt/Happiness shipper, yes. Wanna fight about it? :D

UST = Unresolved Sexual Tension.

If that one chick from Snakes On A Plane can keep her Chihuahua in her lap during a flight, not even in first class, then damn straight Joséphina can, too!

▫ộ»** Mischief Managed **«ộ▫


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee or Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish to. I don't even have the full series!

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><p>▫ộ»<strong>I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good <strong>«ộ▫

When Santana went home later that day (around eleven o'clock at night, since she hated going home), she was surprised to find what looked like a limo parked on the street curb opposite her house. To make it even weirder, it was painted _red_ instead of the usual black or white.

Santana wondered if maybe Puck had slipped her another pot cookie without her noticing before she came home. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done something like that, even on accident.

Or maybe it was a coincidence and she was just thinking it was somehow connected to her family. Her mother was a bit of a bitch, to be truthful, but that may or may not be connected to her working three jobs while her pushover husband sat round trying to write a best-selling novel. (he sucked at writing, and his imagination was horrible, but no one wanted to say anything… usually). No way would either of them warrant a visit by someone rich and eccentric enough to own a limo and paint it scarlet.

Deciding it really was a coincidence, Santana ignored the vehicle and unlocked the front door with the sword shaped key she kept on a chain tied around her neck. The silence that greeted her was unusual, even though all the lights in the house seemed to be on. Normally, her mother would blast all sorts of music in her 'relaxation' room, which was really the guest room with the bed pushed to the wall so she could do her yoga stretches. So why was it so quiet?

Santana knew something was wrong with that limo. Three steps away from her front door, she came to the conclusion that someone had broken in and was either holding her parents hostage or had killed them and might possibly still be in the house. She opened the closet door which was within reach of the now open front door and grabbed the metal baseball bat that had been in there for four years, since her tomboy phase. If someone was actually trying to steal her shit, she'll beat their skull in _then_ call the police.

She left the front door open just in case.

Shifting her hold on the bat into the proper grip, she tightened her hands and held it threateningly. The living room was empty, and the kitchen was on the other side of the house, through two hallways and passing the bedrooms, as well as the bathroom. She only worried about the open doors; working for Coach Sylvester had given her some killer reflexes, and she knew it. The closed doors would squeak, giving her enough time to whirl around and bash someone upside the head if need be.

Her bedroom door was closed, as was her parents'. The spare bedroom was also closed, though the bathroom next to it was wide open. It was small enough that Santana didn't need to be near it to see inside. It was empty.

She heard an unfamiliar laugh from the direction of the kitchen. It sounded almost angry, but mostly derisive. She headed that way.

Once she got close enough, she put her ear to the door to try and pinpoint just where in the kitchen they were. She heard her mother's voice. She sounded pissed. They better not be doing anything to her mother. Santana might hate her mother for her bitchiness sometimes, but she was still her mom.

She threw open the door, hand quickly going back to bat in case someone rushed her.

Her eyes met with her parents, as well as several people she didn't know. No one was tied up, there wasn't blood smeared on the walls or counters, and there was some baby-faced elementary kid standing next to a very handsome white guy with a tan. If Santana wasn't in love with Brittany, she might've tried jumping him at some point, even if he was a little older looking than her usual taste.

"What's going on?" she asked, bat still raised over her head. Until she was filled in on what was happening, she wasn't going to put it down.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee or Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish to. I don't even have the full series!

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><p>"Santana," her mother said, voice dripping with sarcasm (she had to get it from somewhere), "so nice of you to join us."<p>

"… so I take I they're not here to eat your heart out of your chest and offer your decapitated head to Satan?"

There was what could only be described as a loud silence at Santana's words before Baby-Face spoke up. "I like her," she declared.

Finally deciding these strange people weren't a threat, Santana leaned the bat against the wall next to the door and walked in. "Someone still needs to explain who these people are and why Mom's more sarcastic than usual."

Santana's mother gave a pained smile. "This is my niece, Joséphina. She traveled all the way from Mexico with her family, just to meet you."

"Cut the bullshit pleasantries, Mom, and tell me why they're really here," Santana deadpanned.

Mother sighed. "Fine then. My sister, her loser husband, our father and her only daughter, as well as whoever the hell this is, decided to come and say they were all rich in Mexico, which is, you know, useless."

"And to try and take any kids you spawned without a blessing, Aunt Maria Vasquez," was a sarcastic comment from Baby-Face. (she really needed to learn how to not pick up on Coach's tendency to give nicknames to people).

"It's Lopez now, Joséphina," another woman cut in from the other side of the table, half hidden behind the white guy. "And if anyone's husband is a loser, it's _yours_, Mari. Mine's the one that got us rich in the first place."

"Yeah right, what'd you do, cradle-rob some white trash and sell their baby on the internet?"

"No, we cured desert paralysis, which is more than you can say."

"Can we just say, "You suck," and go back home? Ya'll're still too noisy for grown adults. Sirius, tell them to shut up. They might listen to you," an old man whined from next to the other woman.

"I've tried to interfere in a catfight before, _Abuelo_, and there was _way_ too much bloodshed. I'm not getting into this again," the white guy — Sirius — cut in.

Wait a minute, that accent sounded a bit _too_ familiar…

"Hold up, why do you sound British like Emmett?" Santana asked suspiciously.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee or Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish to. I don't even have the full series!

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><p>The man didn't react to her comment beyond a, "… Who's Emmett?"<p>

"Emmett's a British-born amnesiac Porcelain picked up in the middle of the road. He's been living with him for about three months now. He doesn't talk like you much anymore, but he had the same accent you have when we first met him."

Sirius wasn't sure why, but he had retained his accent of vague British/Scottish heritage, despite living in Mexico the past two, two and a half years. He just shrugged. "I don't know anyone named Emmett, to tell the truth."

"Porcelain tells us he remembered his name was Harry before he changed it. He goes by Emmett Black, now."

"Really? My last name's Black. What's he look like? He might be a _very_ distant relative of mine. They bred all over the place."

"He's short, has scruffy black hair, dark green eyes, uses weird euphemisms like, 'Hold your hippogriffs.' Finn tells me he's seen shit float around the guy before, though Finn seeing weird things isn't all that alarming."

"That sounds like the Harry I knew…"

Santana eyed him strangely. "You know him?"

"Harry was my godson. I don't know what happened to him after I found myself in Mexico over two years ago. We were both involved in some pretty heavy things, so I had hoped, as perverse as that sounds, that he had died and found some measure of peace in death. Though why he's amnesiac escapes me… Do you think I could meet him?"


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee or Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish to. I don't even have the full series!

**A/N**: Sorry about the late, short chapter. I've been out all day for Easter celebrations. D:

* * *

><p>Kurt was worried. It was Sunday, and the high of Emmett being accepted into the club officially and dating Kurt had worn off instantly when Santana had texted her fellow gleeks the news of the stranger from Mexico who may or may not be related to Emmett. Kurt was afraid that Emmett might be taken away from him, right after they started going out. He knew it was a bad idea for you to jump into a long-distance relationship, especially during your first one.<p>

When Kurt had shown Emmett the aforementioned text, he had just shrugged and said not to worry. Santana had included the man admitting he "hadn't seen him in two years" as an afterthought. Emmett took this to mean that the two weren't particularly close, as he told Kurt, so he was likely just curious if they were related.

To be honest, Emmett was a little, too.

He might have accepted the fact that he might never know what his life story was, but it would be nice to know something from it, even if it was just a small chapter of whatever had happened.

With half the club at church (or being forced to, like with Puck), Emmett took the time to contemplate when he should meet this guy. Should he do it the day before the guy and his 'family' left? Tomorrow, when everything had sunk in?

What about today, while the information was fresh?

Emmett stole Kurt's phone to text Santana, "Does Breadstix at noon work?"


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee or Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish to. I don't even have the full series!

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><p>There was a buzz about Diagon Alley about the newest series in the preferred bookstore, Flourish and Blotts. That one girl, Luna Lovegood, daughter of that insane lunatic from Ottery St. Catchpole, had published multiple books about Harry Potter. They all seemed separated by ages, and each was charmed to contain the flesh memories of their original writer.<p>

Tap the left page, and the right page would show the black and white memory (as the kinks for the colour hadn't been fixed just yet) of the writer, how they looked and what they were doing as they wrote. It only worked for journals, mostly because of the usually turbulent emotions present in the ambient magic in the surrounding atmosphere.

Lovegood had combined the first two years together, as their 'chapters' were short. The entries themselves were a bit long, but only got longer during the second book, the third year, which became a book by itself.

All the proceeds from whoever bought them would be donated to several charities, including one for the orphans created by the newest war and another for werewolves to afford their Wolfsbane potions.

Hordes of people, eager to learn about the 'hero who had later killed himself in grief' and their infamous 'Boy-Who-Lived,' had turned out to purchase the books, regardless if they were angry about the donations or not. Most purchasers didn't take note of the sign that gave some warnings about what they would find, or appropriate reading ages for which book. The shelves were emptied quickly, no one wanting to stand in the shop and try and read their newly purchased Harry Potter book, just to have it yanked form their hands by someone waiting in line.

The next morning, Luna Lovegood's residence received no less than one hundred and nineteen howlers expressing everything from their disappointment in her 'slandering their hero,' anger at 'daring to say Muggles could possibly do that to a magical child and not get caught,' happiness that she had 'proved them right, this boy was a danger, thank Merlin he's dead now,' and sadness that 'no one had noticed his burden.' This was within the eighteen hours the books had been out.

She set fire to the letters before they could scream their messages and blocked access to her home by way of house elf. They would pop up and either detonate them remotely after getting the bird to leave, or set fire to them, like she had.

Shortly after getting a small breakfast of oatmeal, eyes red from crying the night before, she goes back to bed, sliding into Neville's arms and trying to ignore the fact that she had woken up in the first place.


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer:** *shrugs* Yeah, my chapters are still horrendously short. Not much I can do about it, if the inspiration doesn't strike me.

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><p>Emmett squirmed in the uncomfortable chairs in the only 'acceptable' teenage hang out in Lima. The food was mediocre, the chairs too stiff and wide, and Emmett felt pretty vulnerable at the moment with his back to the front door. Every 'ding!' from the bell above that very door made him twitch and suppress the need to turn around to ease his curiosity of what this half-relative of Santana's looked like.<p>

Kurt just rolled his eyes and squeezed Emmett's left hand every time he fidgeted, their hands hidden by the table. Blue eyes gazed worriedly at his emerald-eyed boyfriend every time his shoulders tensed and Emmett wasn't looking his way.

Santana didn't want to be present for whatever awkwardness would ensue once they all exchanged names, so she had opted just to not show up, leaving the guy, Sirius, to find his way there himself or find a taxi.

He opted for a taxi. The bright yellow car with a checkered stripe on its side was rather obvious, especially in an only partially filled parking lot… at least until a lightly tanned girl stepped out. Kurt and Emmett both turned away to watch the TV in the corner of the large coffee house. It was some news report of a strange appearance of an aurora borealis reported as far south as San Diego, in southern California, bordering near Mexico, the third time such a thing had happened in the past five years. The reporter blamed increasing solar activity.

Emmett, concentrating on not vibrating out of his seat in his nerves, and Kurt, trying to keep Emmett calm, both mostly ignored it.

The door 'ding!'ed, but Emmett didn't turn around. He figured it was that girl that had gotten out of the taxi.

"We're looking for two brunette boys, right Joséphina?" an obviously male voice asked curiously.

Emmett froze in the uncomfortable chair and immediately plunged into a half-forgotten memory.

_Be safe, Bambi._ _Remember whom you can trust with your love, not your life_.

_Be safe, Bambi._ _Remember whom you can trust with your love, not your life_.

_Be safe, Bambi._ _Remember whom you can trust with your love, not your life_.

_It's the same voice_, Emmett thought almost wondrously. He turned around in his seat, wondering what he was going to see. This man, Sirius, was a connection to his past. Sure, he hadn't been all that concerned with this man possibly being related to him, but for his very _voice_ to be one of the few things he remembered at least somewhat clearly…

_Holy hippogriffs_, they must've been pretty damn close.

An unfamiliar name fell from his tongue. "Padfoot."

Sirius looked away from his young companion, who looked rather like a lighter version of Santana, and locked gray eyes on green.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer:** *shrugs* Yeah, my chapters are still horrendously short. Not much I can do about it, if the inspiration doesn't strike me.

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><p>Sirius' eyes widened in surprise. "Harry?"<p>

"I go by Emmett, now. Something happened, I think. I didn't like that name," he explained, feeling rather silly as he did so.

For a second, Sirius' eyes watched him even as they got situated, sliding into seats and settling. Kurt felt a little like he was intruding on a moment. Joséphina watched unabashedly. She wanted to know what was going on, what this strange boy meant for Sirius. "I can see it's worse than I ever though it would be," Sirius finally assumed.

"What do you mean?"

"… I can't speak of it out here. It's rather like Fight Club, just, you know, with people that would kill you given the chance," Sirius said, searching for a decent comparison. However, it was _Magic_, and it couldn't be compared to such mundane things as _Fight Club_.

"So I was a lion tamer?" Emmett joked, trying to inject maybe a little humour into the situation.

"That _was_ kind of our banner… Either way, you're different then the boy I was forced to leave behind."

There was a long silence between the two pairs. Kurt shifted in his seat, and Joséphina knew now wasn't the time for one of her witticisms. A waitress took this cue as good as any she was gonna get from them and popped up, quickly asking for the strangers' orders. Sirius had grown familiar with the different types of coffee (what else were you gonna do when you were rich and didn't know the flavours of the glory of coffee?), and already knew what Joséphina wanted, so he ordered for both of them. Nodding, because the silence was unnerving, the waitress left, adding the little checkmark in the top right corner that meant that their usual customer pair had also shown up.

"… so, who's your guest? She's not ringing any bells," Emmett asked.

"Joséphina Alvarez," she said. "I'm the one related to Santana."


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer:** I honestly don't know where to go with this anymore.

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><p>The coffee was awkward. No one was sure what to say, what to do, and it was obvious from the silence. Emmett eventually asked which part of the UK he was from, and Sirius had answered, "We're both from the London area, but we'd been in Scotland for boarding school for several years, so it's not exactly a pure accent."<p>

The silence descended again before Kurt asked, "What was Emmett like as a baby?" He wanted to know because, oddly, it felt like he was meeting the parents (or whatever this guy was, he hadn't been all that clear on it).

Sirius gives them a white grin, teeth bright against his lightly tanned complexion. "Adorable little monster. Whenever he saw his mother, he'd act innocent. Sweet, drooling, baby-babbling, et cetra. But once she left, he'd turn into a tiny scheming terror that blamed his father for everything, from the knocked down vase to the burned turkey in the oven. James didn't mind, being a prankster himself. He was just happy his little boy was a pranking mastermind with a _really_ fast start."

A smile was painted on Kurt's lips as he looked at his embarrassed boyfriend. "You sound cute," he teased.

"Shut up," a blushing Emmett muttered. "I was not. Did you not hear him? I was a terror."

"A _scheming_ terror," was the reply, "which just smacks of _Baby Geniuses_. Thus, cute."

"What the hell are baby geniuses?"

"It's a movie, _Perrito_."


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer:** I honestly don't know where to go with this anymore. I also typed this up on the document, since Word decided not to cooperate.

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><p>The conversation went very well. Sirius said he'd get in touch with him soon so he could disclose some of the more sensitive details to Emmett as they exchanged phone numbers and e-mails. Kurt wasn't very suspicious anymore, having struck up a conversation with Josephina about the decline of the fashion industry and the extremely high price of luxury cars for little payback, which somehow eventually settled into a talk about how weird their friends were.<p>

"-and that's why _Perrito_ is now banned from several prank store chains in the US already," Josephina finished.

Kurt giggled for a second before he asked, "So you said you had a puppy?"

"Oh yes, he's just the most adorable thing ever-" And so it went.

Sirius and Emmett decided to be more manly and discuss video games and how much Sirius seemed to suck at them.

They were waxing poetic about how fun playing _Dead Rising_ on the Wii console was when Emmett heard, "So how long have you two been dating?" from Josephina, who looked very innocent when he looked over.

Kurt gave him a mischievous look, blue eyes twinkling, before he replied, "Since he kissed me that first time."

Sirius gave Emmett an impressed look, eyebrows rising before he wriggled them suggestively. "It seems you caught a little minx, Emmett. He's a keeper."


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer:** Somewhere, there's a guy with _Kurt_ tattooed on his ass, and he regrets not finding out if that guy he danced with was single or not.

**A/N**: Thank you, **Roith and Lorette**, for giving me something to work with! I wasn't sure what to do with this, so I was probably gonna draw out that meeting as far as I could. Thanks for not letting me do that! *gives virtual cookies* Just for you guys, I'm going to try and work on this next chapter a little bit every day.

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><p>That night, after the shop had closed, Sirius had updated the Alvarez's to the fact he had family here and had slipped into bed, emotionally exhausted from trying not to break down upon seeing Harry's—<em>Emmett's<em>—face again. It was something he was both grateful and cursing the gods over. On one hand, he saw Harry again. He remembered the last thing he had said to him had to have hurt his godson a great deal. This could be the chance he needed to make things right, especially as he had recovered more in the past two years than he had in the months he'd been trapped in his old family home. He felt like he had his head on straight, rather than feeling like he was psychologically thrown to the four winds and scattered. On the other hand, however, Ha-_Emmett_ didn't remember anything, so how was he supposed to set it right?

Matter of fact, how did Ha-_Emmett_ forget anyway? Sirius was assuming, of course, that H-_Emmett_ (he was still working on it) had fallen into the veil as well; it was the only plausible scenario for what happened. The Harry he knew had transformed from a mildly optimistic thirteen-year-old into a sullen fifteen-year-old with a jaded worldview. The look on his face when Sirius had gotten hit with a stunning spell…

Sirius couldn't help his eyes widening when he realized that, if Harry could do a complete 180 in the span of two years, who's to say those next two didn't just become _worse_?

That little revelation kept him up the rest of the night.

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><p>Despite all evidence to the contrary, Emmett was able to fall asleep easily, curled up against Kurt's side and just a smidgen away from purring as Kurt ran his fingers through his hair. He wasn't thinking about the meeting they would have with who appeared to be his godfather the next weekend, nor whatever dark secret his blank memories held enough that the guy was scared to speak about it in public. No, Emmett was thinking about how wonderful and supportive Kurt was being of this.<p>

With a smile painted on his lips, Emmett's green eyes drifted close as he fell into an calm sleep on the couch, Kurt thinking he had the most adorable person in the world as his boyfriend.


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer:** Somewhere, there's a guy with _Kurt_ tattooed on his ass, and he regrets not finding out if that guy he danced with was single or not.

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><p>Sirius could only come up with one explanation for Emmett's lost memories through the entire night: he did not want to remember.<p>

That should tell him just how bad it had become.

The boy he had known would not have wanted to forget if there was a chance to save someone. This meant that the war must've ended either so bloody the boy couldn't handle it anymore, or so bloodless that he afterwards he had felt like he had no purpose. He did not want to contemplate the medium between the two, because that would mean something else had happened.

In a way, this was simultaneously what he wanted to hear and what he didn't, because there is no confirmation either way, not until it's clear whether or not Emmett could gain his memories back.

Before the night is over, Sirius comes to the conclusion that he'd rather Emmett never recall what happened, because that might break him all over again.

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><p>Kurt looked down at his lap to see Emmett's messy bedhead resting against his thigh, his breaths slow and steady against the material of his pants. He gave a soft smile as he ran his fingers through that soft black hair, unable to resist just how adorable his boyfriend looked. Emmett's unconscious response was to nuzzle into Kurt's leg and murmur something incomprehensible.<p>

The two of them had fallen asleep on the couch after a movie marathon. Kurt had suggested they do something to unwind (meeting people you don't remember must've been _exhausting_), so Emmett had put in that they could watch some comedy movies before Kurt could do something like suggest yoga. (Emmett was pretty flexible, but nowhere near Kurt's level; Kurt's warm-up stretches would likely distract him anyway).

Kurt had woken up when Finn had stumbled into a wall while heading to the bathroom after waking up in the middle of the night. He had jerked awake, startled, but Emmett had still slept on, heedless to Kurt's movement. After determining that no, it wasn't a robber or other type of intruder (after Finn's cuss echoed down the stairs), Kurt hadn't been able to fall back asleep because of the adrenaline rush. His phone was dead, having not been placed on the charger before he fell asleep, so he didn't know what time it was. Seeing how the sky was playing tricks on him by seeming to lighten up the longer he stared at it through his window, he decided that it was probably three in the morning, since the world wanted him ignorant of the time. Weird things always happened at three.

Sighing softly as he attempted to settle, forcing his muscles to relax, Kurt tried to ignore just how hot his leg was with Emmett breathing on it. Now was _not_ the time for _those_ kinds of thoughts. If he did think of them, he _really_ wouldn't be able to sleep again.

He counted sheep instead.


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer:** I have a job interview today. Wish me luck!

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><p>Neville pressed a kiss to his girlfriend's head as he crawled out of bed. She looked very beautiful like this, naked and curled around a navy blue pillow in his bed, blonde hair splayed around her innocent face. The only thing that could be considered off about her in this moment was the fact that her eyes were swollen a little from crying, red against her pale cheeks. She looked almost… peaceful, though, which wasn't making much sense.<p>

He couldn't help staring for a long while, watching the sunbeams coming in through the charmed windows and filter into Luna's pale flaxen hair. It seemed to glow almost unearthly, like her hair was magic on it's own. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

After nearly an hour of watching her sleep, she finally stirred, arms tightening around the lucky pillow before her eyes fluttered open. Arctic sky blue eyes peered up at him, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Hullo, Neville," she murmured before she yawned.

"Hullo, Miss Lovegood. How are you this handsome morning?" he asked, an answering smile breaking out onto his face as he leaned forward and brushed some hair out of her face.

"I'm good. You?"

"I'm perfectly fine right now."

"… come back to bed?"

"Okay."

Neville crawled in beside his girlfriend. He had known she was both stressed and utterly relaxed about publishing Harry's journal. She had been conflicted about profiting from it, even if it wasn't directly. She had also known that he had wanted her to do it, so he had left it to her, someone he could trust to do it without adding or removing precious details from it. He hoped that what had happened wasn't going to affect her badly.

"He's happy, you know."

"Luna?"

"I saw him. He found someone to love. They have such pretty eyes…"


	29. Notice

**Author's Note**

I have no idea where to go with this anymore, so I'm going to file it under complete for now. If inspiration ever strikes again for this fic, I'll add it as a drabble/omake/whatever this would be called.

I like where I ended this, and what kind of story would it be if there wasn't any unanswered questions? All good stories have at least one that you want answered, but never get an explanation for.

No, I didn't get the job, but there's still plenty of ads to sift through. ;)

Here's to happy reading!


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